


Points of View

by Caranath



Category: Hardy Boys - Franklin W. Dixon
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-09
Updated: 2013-02-09
Packaged: 2017-11-28 18:04:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/677287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caranath/pseuds/Caranath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joe's injury as seen through other eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Night Shift

**Author's Note:**

> This is what happens when you have really weird dreams after too much wine. Originally posted elsewhere as separate stories, consolidated here for your approval.

 

Amanda Keller, Mandy to her friends and co workers, pulled into the parking lot of Bayport General Hospital just slightly after 1030 pm one crisp October night. There was a chill in the air that stung of snow and she shivered as she quickly half ran, half walked from the employee section of the lot and headed towards the large automatic double doors that slid open silently at her approach, ushering her into the large open Emergency Room entrance. Stopping only briefly at the Admitting desk to say hi to the pair of nurses keeping a watchful eye on the myriad of waiting patients, she was soon on her way up to her domain on the third floor, ICU.

 

Amanda had always preferred the night shift. There was something calming about it, despite the fact that medical emergencies do not keep time. But there were fewer demands from insistent doctors who all assumed that their patient was the only one on the ward who required any care or monitoring. Aside from regular trips to administer medication, or to check vital signs, there was little to do. As a result, she often helped out the day shift by catching up on paperwork and tidying up the large circular nurses' station. She had anticipated tonight to be no different until she glanced up at the large white board that took up most of the wall behind the station. Fortunately, there were only 4 names on the board, but she caught her breath at the last one on the list.

 

“ Not again?!” she cried, half amused, half exasperated. “Which one is it this time?” she asked her fellow Night Shift colleague, Linda Marks. “ The cute one” she replied with a grin.

 

Amanda, who was well past her mid 40's, only chuckled at her 20 years younger coworker's comment. “They're _both_ cute.”

 

Linda sobered. “The younger one. Poor kid. It's only been a few months since his last stay.”

 

Amanda felt a sharp stab of worry. Of course she cared deeply about all her patients, but the blond teenager was a frequent customer and so she had a touch more empathy for him. It always seemed that he got the worse end of the stick no matter what. Of course she supposed that came with the territory. It was inevitable that the son of a well renowned private investigator who followed in his father's footsteps would invariably get into scrapes. It just seemed like Joe Hardy's were always more dire. That wasn't to say that his elder brother Frank didn't have frequent flyer privileges in ICU as well; it's just that his injuries always seemed.. less..catastrophic. And far less frequent.

 

Amanda sighed and asked “What are we looking at?”

 

Linda grabbed the chart that had Joe's name on it and flipped it open. “GSW to the abdomen, torso and left shoulder. Partially collapsed lung. Shoulder was through and through, but the other two are still in there. No involuntary response to stimuli on the lower extremities. He was being taken for MRI and x-rays, I assume to pinpoint the other 2 bullets and decide on surgery options.”

 

The experienced nurse paled a little as the list was recited. Gunshot wounds were never a good thing, but belly wounds were often the hairiest of all. If the intestines , kidneys or liver were damaged, Joe could have a very long road to recovery, or, and she shook her head as if to chase away such thoughts, not recover at all. “I suppose his brother is here?”

 

“Of course. You'd think Joe would never get hurt, the way Frank always hovers nearby. I went ahead and sent him into 'Joe's Room'” this last was accompanied by air quotes as one room in particular in the ICU ward always seem to be the one Joe Hardy was given. In fact, last year, as he was spending his birthday in the ICU, the staff had given him his very own permanent name plate that could be slid into the holder outside each room. Amanda herself had given it to him, saying she was tried of always having to write his name.

 

“I'll go see how he's holding up then.” with that Amanda dropped off her coat and handbag in the break room and grabbed 2 Styrofoam cups of coffee and headed towards the last room on the left corridor.

 

“Frank?” She spoke quietly, not wanting to disturb the young man if he was asleep.

 

The tall, lean dark haired youth who was so unlike his whirlwind of a brother in looks and temperament jumped at the sound but quickly recovered his composure. “ Is he alright?! He breathlessly pleaded, a look of desperation in his eyes.

 

“I'm not sure, dear, I only just came on duty. But I wanted to make sure you didn't need any one to look at you as well.” Amanda knew all too well the brothers' penchant for ignoring their own injuries while insisting that their sibling was much more in need. Just six months ago Frank had collapsed from internal bleeding after Joe had been brought in yet again for what turned out to be minor injuries. That was one time that 'Joe's Room' had to be renamed 'Frank's Room'. She smiled a bit at the memory of Joe gleefully taking some masking tape and covering his own name and writing over it in bright orange Sharpie that of his brother's.

 

Frank only shook his head. But Amanda noticed the bloodstained clothes he was wearing and although she suspected that it was most likely Joe's she insisted that he remove them and let her examine him. Satisfied that he was indeed only carrying a few fresh bruises, she offered to supply him with a set of scrubs to change in to. He gratefully accepted and was soon sipping the coffee she had brought in looking less disheveled, if not less tired and anxious.

 

“Have your parents been notified, dear?” she asked. Frank shook his head. “Dad's undercover and we don't have any way of getting a hold of him, but I left a message with his contact inside the Police department in case he should call in. Mom is in Hawai'i and can't get a flight back until tomorrow some time.”

 

Amanda made a quick decision. Being Head Nurse did have its perks. “Frank, it's a quiet night and I doubt very seriously we will have need of the bed next door. Why don't you take a shower and lie down for a bit. Joe will be some time before he returns. I promise to wake you once he is back and the doctor gives his okay for him to have visitors.”

 

Frank's eyes shown with gratitude at the offer and he readily agreed. Nurse Keller was someone he had grown to trust and even like as she always seemed to be on duty whenever he or Joe were admitted. He knew she would keep her word and wake him. When she came by about twenty minutes later, he was sprawled across the hospital bed, arm flung over his head and dead to the world. She smiled softly and closed the door shutting out the harsh light from the hallway as well as the ambient noises and continued on her rounds.

 

It was almost three hours later when Joe Hardy arrived back on the 3rd floor. His normally rosy cheeks were sunken, grey and ashy. The rest of his face was obscured by the large manual air bag that was being methodically squeezed at regular intervals by the orderly who walked beside the gurney as it traveled down the hall. Amanda hurried from behind the desk and followed the gurney into Joe's Room and assisted the orderly in hooking up the ventilator and settling her patient into the hospital bed. The orderly commented “Not lookin' too good this time, is he? Doc Taylor said he'll be up momentarily to do another exam and update his chart.”

 

“Thanks, Tom. You're right, he doesn't look well at all.” Amanda sighed as she smoothed the tangle of slightly too long curly blond hair away from the unconscious boy's eyes. Despite his no longer actually being a boy, Amanda found it difficult to think of him or his brother in any other fashion.

 

True to the orderly's word, the slightly portly Doctor Taylor arrived within minutes. “Ahh, Mandy, good. Glad you are on shift tonight. I'm afraid Superman here got clobbered with pretty big chunk of Kryptonite. I want his vitals monitored every 15 minutes. Don't suppose it's too much to hope that you can spare Linda and have her sit with him?”

 

“Will Frank do? He's had a nice long nap so should be able to keep watch. Shall I go wake him?”

 

“Hell, Frank knows almost as much as the nurses do when it comes to watching for signs of distress. Plus I wouldn't put it past him to notice something is wrong _before_ a nurse would. It's almost scary how attuned he is to Joe. Yes, please do that while I do a short look see.” With a smile he turned to his patient and began listening to the lungs, looking for signs of fluid buildup or other distress.

 

 

Amanda turned and left the room but stopped back into the break room and grabbed another cup of coffee before returning to the room where Frank was asleep. Gently touching his shoulder, she was unsurprised when he was awake and alert immediately. “Joe?!”

 

“Doctor Taylor is with him now but he does want to speak to you. I volunteered you to sit with your brother all night and watch the monitors. Hope you don't mind, but I cannot spare Linda for only one patient.”

 

Frank just nodded and said “I would have insisted I be allowed to stay with him anyway. As you well know.” This last was accompanied by a small smile as he accepted the proffered cup and sipped at the strong black liquid inside. Just then, a growling sound that emanated from Frank's stomach made both Nurse and concerned brother jump and then laugh in embarrassment.

 

“Well that I can do something about. The day shift had some sort of potluck and the fridge is full of leftovers. Let's give the Doctor a few more minutes and in the meantime get you something more filling than caffeine.” Amanda led the way to the break room and promptly filled a plate to the brim with potato salad, baked beans, cornbread and added a heaping bowl of chili for good measure. Frank said little past a mumbled “Thanks, this looks great” before inhaling everything at great speed. Amanda suspected it had been many hours since he had last eaten. In a matter of moments the plate and bowl were both empty, but he turned down an offer of seconds. He did, however, eye the remnants of a sheet cake that was sitting next to the microwave. “Umm, is that Chocolate?!” he asked wistfully.

 

Amanda laughed as she sliced a generous portion and passed it over. “ I thought Joe was the chocolate addict?”

 

Frank blushed just a little. “Well, he is , mostly. I just needed a sugar rush I guess.”

 

At that moment, Dr. Taylor came into the break room. “Ahh Frank, there you are. Why, thank you Mandy a slice of cake would be just lovely this evening” he exclaimed jovially. Amanda smiled tolerantly and handed a plate full of cake over to the doctor. “I believe that is my cue to go do rounds. Frank, come to your brother's room when you are done.” With a last smile in Frank's direction, she slipped out on quiet soled shoes and attended to her duties.

 

 

The rest of the evening passed quietly with Amanda and Linda alternating the every fifteen minute readings. At one point, Frank apologized for the frequency. “Nonsense, dear. Everyone else on the floor doesn't need quite as close an eye on them so do not think your wayward sibling is keeping me from my other patients.” Amanda laughed.

 

Just before 630 the next morning, Amanda popped her head in one last time before ending her shift. Frank was looking tired and desperately needed a shave. “Frank, Dr. Taylor just called and he will be checking on Joe first when he comes it at 7. Why don't you go freshen up and grab some breakfast downstairs. The day shift has begun to arrive so I can sit with your brother.” Despite the reluctant look he sent in Joe's direction, he did admit he could use the distraction.

 

As soon as Frank was out of the room, Mandy began checking Joe's vitals and marking the results on the chart at the foot of his bed. The young man had passed the night relatively quietly and was resting as comfortably as could be expected for the condition he was in. But he was still in very bad shape and Mandy was not happy with his blood oxygen levels at all.

 

True to his word, Dr. Taylor arrived promptly at 7. In fact , Mandy strongly suspected he had not stopped for coffee before checking up on his patient, due in large part to his rather gruff manner, so unlike his usual jovial self. Harumphing at the numbers on the chart in his hands, he gave the order to increase the respirator's flow and made some minor changes to the medications being delivered via IV.

 

“Let the day shift know I want the current readings to stand at every 15 minutes. I'll be back later this morning after the rest of my rounds. The surgeon will be here by noon so we will consult then. Where's Frank?” he asked, looking around as if half expecting the elder brother to be hovering nearby.

 

“I sent him for breakfast and to freshen up.” she replied. “ I am sure he will be back shortly.”

 

Sure enough, just then the door squeaked open and in walked Frank. “Hi doc, how is he?” he asked anxiously.

 

“Well son let's you and I have a little confab, shall we?”

 

This was Mandy's cue to leave so she said her good mornings to both men and made her way back to the nurse's station where she passed along Dr. Taylor's updated orders and turned over the rest of the charts to the oncoming day shift. As she bundled up against the winter chill she took one last moment to spare a thought for her patient. She only hoped she would still have a patient when she returned to work in 16 hours' time.

 


	2. My Brother's Keeper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you will notice that the chapters tend to overlap; some more so than others. so no, you aren;t losing your mind and yes, it is intentional.

**My Brother's Keeper**

 

Frank Hardy was pacing the ICU room, deep in thought when Nurse Amanda Keller pushed open the door with a squeak.

 

The tall, lean dark haired youth who was so unlike his whirlwind of a brother in looks and temperament jumped at the sound but quickly recovered his composure. “Is he alright?! He breathlessly pleaded, a look of desperation in his eyes.

 

“I'm not sure, dear, I only just came on duty. But I wanted to make sure you didn't need any one to look at you as well.” Nurse Keller offered a cup of coffee to Frank and he accepted it wordlessly with a shake of his head, indicating he had not been injured.

 

Despite Frank's negative shake, Nurse Keller insisted that he be checked out. Soon satisfied that the blood on his clothes was indeed that of his brother's and not his own, she offered a set of scrubs to change into. He accepted with thanks and sat uneasily on the hard chair, sipping at the coffee. When asked about his parents, Frank replied “Dad's undercover and we don't have any way of getting a hold of him, but I left a message with his contact inside the Police department in case he should call in. Mom is in Hawai'i and can't get a flight back until tomorrow some time.”

 

Upon hearing that Nurse Keller offered the use of the room next door. Frank did not hesitate in accepting, knowing that the kindly nurse would come get him as soon as Joe returned. He took a quick shower, admitting to himself that the warm water felt good and helped to ease the tension in his shoulders; a tension that he knew was in large part caused by a teeny amount of guilt. Okay maybe a large amount of guilt. Joe was hurt badly, and it was all his fault. But exhaustion took it's toll and despite his self recrimination, the Eldest Hardy son was sound asleep the minute his head hit the pillow.

 

Several hours later he was gently woken by Nurse Keller. Immediately alert he asked after his brother, only to be told that Doctor Taylor was currently with him and that he would be out momentarily to speak with Frank.

 

It had been over 12 hours since Frank had last eaten and his stomach betrayed him at this point. With a smile Nurse Keller offered to feed him from the leftovers of the day shift's potluck. He quickly demolished a full plate of chili, cornbread, beans and potato salad before sheepishly asking about the delicious looking chocolate cake sitting by the microwave.

 

At that moment, Dr. Taylor came into the break room. “Ahh Frank, there you are. Why, thank you Mandy a slice of cake would be just lovely this evening” he exclaimed jovially. Nurse Keller smiled tolerantly and handed a plate full of cake over to the doctor before exiting the room to do her rounds.

 

Frank chafed, impatiently waiting as the Doctor took his time savoring each mouth full of cake. Finally after what was in reality only a couple of minutes but seemed 100 times longer to the worried sibling, Doctor Taylor put down the plastic fork and regarded Frank with solemn eyes.

 

“I understand your parents are not available?”

 

“No, but my mother should be here by the end of the day tomorrow.”

 

“Humph. Luckily your parents gave you a durable medical POA and you are executor of Joe's Living Will. He is going to need more surgery. I have it scheduled for tomorrow afternoon”

 

Frank paled at this news. “Why tomorrow?” he asked.

 

“He needs time to top off. He lost a lot of blood. I want his pressure back up to something vaguely resembling alive and to do that he needs at least 2 more transfusions.”. The doctor leaned back and removed his wire rimmed glasses. He pinched the bridge of his nose, pausing a moment as if to gather his thoughts on how to break the news. Both Hardy boys had been frequent patients of his, so much so that once he considered offering their father a volume discount. Like Nurse Keller, he cared for all his patients but some were special and touched his life a little more meaningfully.

 

“Frank” he began, “ I have never withheld from any of your family the full scope of injuries either you or your brother has ever sustained and I am not about to start now.”

 

Frank nodded. “I know and I appreciate that, I really do.”

 

“Yes, well, harrumph...” Taylor cleared his throat and began speaking again in what Joe always called his “Doctor Voice”.. clinical, somewhat detached in order to relay the information without emotional uproar. “Joe sustained three separate gun shot wounds. The easiest and least invasive was the shoulder. As you know the bullet went straight through, doing minimal damage although his baseball season is done for. The second is to his abdomen and I will be honest, I thought at first it could prove a problem. Luckily scans indicate that it has not tore through any major muscle groups or organs and is relatively near the surface. It should be an easy repair job although he will be very sore for a while.”

 

Frank breathed a sigh of relief at this news, thinking the worst was over and all that was left was recovery. Unfortunately that was not the case.

 

“That was the good news. Now for the bad. The remaining bullet is lodged dangerously near his heart and we may not be able to remove it easily, if at all. I am bringing in a cardio specialist and hopefully that will make it easier. There is a great deal of impact swelling which is pressing on his heart and causing it to have a harder time beating. And his lung has still not fully inflated; I believe there is a tear that needs repairing. That too we will look at in the morning.” The doctor stopped here, waiting for Frank to assimilate the information and accept it before dropping the bombshell.

 

“There's one more thing. The swelling has also compressed his spinal nerves. As of twenty minutes ago, I could not get a reaction from Joe's lower extremities.” He put up a hand as Frank leaned forward in alarm “ I do not wish to seem a doom sayer or present a worse case scenario as fact. Joe has not regained consciousness at all so I could not ask him to move his legs for me. It is very likely that once the swelling goes down, he will regain full use of them again. But there is always the small chance that is not temporary. You will need to prepare yourself..and your parents, for that possibility.”

 

Taylor rose from the table and came around the corner, putting his hand on the young man's shoulder. His face had turned white as a sheet and he was dangerously close to hyperventilating. “Why don't we go see him now, hmm?”

 

Frank only nodded, too stunned to speak.

 

 

The break room was steps from Joe's room, almost directly across. In the wee hours of the morning, every sound was louder and harsher. Frank winced as the heavy metal door squeaked a protest as it swung inward. Inside, the room was awash in harsh sterile lighting. The respirator wheezed and whooshed in a slow but steady rhythm. With deja vu all over again, Frank's heart caught in his throat as he got a good look at his brother for the first time since the ambush. Last time, Joe had been covered in blood. Now, it was bandages and tubes. Frank didn't think the change was much of an improvement.

 

Linda Marks, another nurse, had been in the room, taking a reading from the monitor that was hooked up to Joe's right index finger. She smiled at the newcomers and handed the chart to the doctor. Placing a gentle hand on Frank's she said quietly “He's resting comfortably. I'll be back later to take another set of vitals.” and with that, she was gone. The doctor, too left soon after, leaving Frank alone with his thoughts.

 

Frank spent the night uneasily. The chair was most uncomfortable but he refused to entertain the thought of finding anything else. He considered it a form of penance; payback for getting his brother into this mess. Frank chuckled grimly to himself. Now _there_ was a first. Usually Frank was telling Joe off for being reckless. The one time _HE_ was the reckless one it was still Joe who got hurt. Go figure. His mind refused to linger on Dr. Taylor's ominous words concerning paralysis.

 

Every fifteen minutes, on the dot, either Nurse Keller or Marks came in to take a new set of vitals. At 630, Nurse Keller came in one last time and suggested Frank go get some breakfast as Dr Taylor would soon be in to examine Joe. Reluctantly, Frank did as suggested but soon returned to the room, where he encountered Dr Taylor just finishing up.

 

“Hi doc, how is he?” he asked anxiously.

 

“Well son let's you and I have a little confab, shall we?” with a smile, Dr Taylor led the dark haired sibling over to the hard chair and sat him down in it before grabbing the stool that normally stood by the sink and easing onto it himself.

 


	3. Hippocrates Never Met Joe Hardy

 

If he had, Dr. Lawrence Taylor mused as he maneuvered the stool in front of the impatient Frank Hardy, there would surely be an extra few lines in the Hippocratic Oath; a warning against becoming too involved with your patients. Good doctors, of course, cared deeply for the entire person, not considering them a mere patient or focusing only on the illness/injury/disease( _yes I am talking to you, Gregory House! Whatever happened to tv characters like Hawkeye or Mark Greene, hmm?!)_ Great doctors were able to mourn failures without becoming crippled. Larry considered himself a good doctor. He wanted to be a great one, but feared that Joe Hardy would be his Achilles Heel.

 

He had left the big city, Chicago in his case, because he had grown tired of losing more patients than he saved. The joys of being an ER/trauma specialist. No mere colds or sprains for him. Nooooo he had to go for gang beatings and drug overdoses. But after several years of having to tell bewildered parents their little Jimmy was dead because he was a gang banger he threw in the towel and said “No More!”

 

So, on the advice of a friend he moved to the seaside town known as Bayport. Close to the other big city, New York, he could indulge his love of fine dining while getting away from the vagaries that large metropolitan areas seem to attract. He figured a sleepy bedroom community couldn't get anything worse than a few broken legs, maybe the occasional drunk idiot who wrapped his car around a telephone pole. Funny how Sam Radley never mentioned THEM when he extolled Bayport's virtues.

 

The Hardy Boys. NOT your average teenagers. Not by a long shot. Great kids, really, but cripes they got into trouble. ( _Joe's taking the whole 'like father like son' thing a bit overboard again hey Frank?)_ he thought to himself as he took a deep breath and tried to voice his concerns without freaking the elder brother out too much. Luckily Frank was less wont to get freaked out as compared to his brother. Joe, on the other hand... sheesh. Worse than Chicken Little, always going straight for the Worse Case Scenario.

 

“You know , Frank, I _had_ hoped I'd be seeing Joe again after his return. I just wish it wasn't as a patient. Again.” Dr. Taylor smiled at this, which seemed to put Frank at ease. A fraction.

 

“Not even the Navy could fix his impulsiveness, Doc. He pushed me outta the way and took those bullets for me. Stupid kid brother.” Frank was half exasperated, half grateful and all worry. As usual.

 

“The good news is he had an excellent night. His blood pressure is back up to what I would consider civilized, his respiration seems to have stabilized and we were able to get much better images on this morning's scans. We now know exactly where the two remaining bullets are and I have the utmost confidence in Dr Yang, the heart surgeon. I have no doubt she will be able to remove the bullet with no damage to the heart muscle or surrounding tissue.”

 

Frank gave a sigh of relief that was immediately replaced by a frown. “The...paralysis?” he asked hesitantly.

 

Dr. Taylor leaned toward Frank and spoke earnestly. “Nothing has changed on that front yet, my boy. But I must caution you to **not** dwell on this. He will need you to be in the best possible frame of mind. Let's get him through surgery first, then we will worry about recovery and therapy.”

 

Frank visibly struggled with this advice and Larry gave him a few minutes to compose himself before continuing.

 

“I have scheduled the surgery for 2 this afternoon. There is nothing you can do until then so I strongly suggest you go home, get some rest, have a decent meal. What time will your mother be here?”

 

“Not until late this evening.”

 

“Then I insist you go home and get the place ready for her.” With that he shooed Frank out of the room and did not take no for an answer. He gave one last look over to the unnaturally still young man in the bed before shaking his head and going about his morning before meeting with Dr Yang at 1:30.

 

Dr. Taylor was no surgeon but he insisted on being in the OR anyway. He knew it would be appreciated by the family and he did have a soft spot for the rapscallion blond. As he had assured Frank, Dr Yang was extremely competent, if a bit arrogant. The surgery went off without a hitch and he was quite pleased with the Post Op vitals and he moved Joe out of recovery and back into his room in a matter of hours.

 

Frank of course was in the room and anxiously hovered in the corner while Joe was situated and given the once over by Dr. Taylor. The exam was brief and well pleased by the progress Joe was making, Dr Taylor amended the meds to bring Joe out of the medically induced coma he had been in since shortly after arriving the day before.

 

He gave one last admonishment to Frank before leaving for the night, saying “I know Mandy is going to let one of you stay the night again, but I must insist you let him wake up on his own. No bugging him, no crying over his bed, no pacing the room. Deal?”

 

Frank smiled, the first real one since Joe had been brought in. “That's his style, not mine” jerking his head towards his younger sibling.

 

At this, Dr Taylor laughed and agreed, remembering other nights when the situation was reversed and it was Frank lying in bed hooked up to various machines. Instead of Chicken Little Mama Bear made an appearance.“He is a bit of a Drama Queen, isn't he?! Worse than my 15 year old daughter.”

 

With a final pat on Frank's arm, Dr. Taylor went out of the room, leaving the brothers alone to their own thoughts.

 

 

 

 


	4. Wanted

Laura Hardy was pacing the length of the baggage claim area keeping a close eye on the carousel that would hopefully be regurgitating her luggage soon when she heard a familiar voice call her name. Turning around, she saw Con Riley striding towards her purposefully. Giving her a perfunctory hug, he asked how her flight had been.

"Long but at least there were no delays along the way" she smiled at him. She was not at all surprised to find him there, knowing from (all too much) past experience that she needn't have worried about being met at the airport in situations like this.

She sighed. Situations like this happened all too damn frequently. Made worse by the fact that she had the Triple Threat of her husband and two sons to deal with. At any given time any combination of the men in her life could be in mortal peril. It was a wonder she didn't have more grey than she did.

While she and Con waited for the luggage to be spat out, she dialed her elder son's cell phone and got his voice mail. She figured he'd still be at the hospital hovering for her by proxy and his phone would be turned off, so she just left a quick "Hi, Honey, I am here. Con is with me and I will be by as soon as we leave the airport. Be there soon. Love you both."

Con had no new updates past the latest news she had, that Joe had had surgery earlier that afternoon. So they passed the time chitchatting about Laura's curtailed trip to Hawai'i. "Joe was so right, it is beautiful there. I wish I could have stayed the entire 2 weeks. I think I shall make him take me back just to make up for the fact that I cut this one short."

The luggage began tumbling down the automated belt and Con made his way to the edge and quickly grabbed Laura's paisley suitcase and ushered her out into the chilly evening and to his patrol car. "Better than a Limo" she joked. "Nuthin' but the best for you, My Lady" he replied with a hint of a smile but in earnest.

The drive to the hospital was short and uneventful. Con dropped her off at the entrance, saying "I will drop your things off at the house and drive your car back here before tomorrow morning." he knew without asking that she would be spending the night and that she would force Frank to get some real rest, thus effectively stranding her. Laura smile her thanks and asked "Has anyone been able to contact Fenton? I know these deep cover assignments are supposed to be exactly that, but I'd like him here if all possible."

Con Promised to relay the request to Chief Collig and the FBI liaison in charge of the investigation. With a final thanks and a wave goodbye, Laura found herself once again at the Gates of Hell, aka Bayport General Hospital's Emergency room entrance. One upon a time, she toyed with the idea of becoming a Nurse herself. But all that changed when she met the charming Fenton Hardy. She knew then and there that she could never cope with being on duty if he or any of his fellow Police Officers were brought in. Sometimes you just cannot separate work and family well enough.

Laura barely slowed as she walked past the Information desk with a wave of acknowledgement to the Candy striper manning the phone. She knew all too well where to go. The elevator was waiting for her and she quickly arrived at her second home, the ICU. Mandy Keller came around the Nurse's Station and fell in beside her as she walked down to the end of the ward. "Laura, he's showing some signs of coming out of it, but it will probably be tomorrow before he is responsive. I'll let Frank bring you up to speed, he's just come back from meeting with Drs. Taylor and Yang." Laura smiled at her in thanks and pushed open the heavy metal door with a creak.

She didn't even make it all the way into the room before Frank was crushing her in his lean but muscular arms. "Oof. Can't breathe, dear." Hastily letting go, Frank apologized as he led her deeper into the room and sat her down on that blasted ugly chair that she loathed. She made a mental note to ask Frank to bring the cushion from her sewing room back with her in the morning as she had  _every_ intention of forcibly kicking her eldest offspring  _out_  of the hospital for the night. It was her shift tonight. "Tell me." she said simply.

Frank began by relating the events that led to his brother's current condition. "We aren't even on a case!" he anguished. "It was just some stupid kid trying to rob a couple and we walked right into it. We distracted the kid enough for the couple to get away but I guess he had friends cuz alluvasudden we had company." Frank stopped and brought tear filled eyes up to look his mother straight in her own shining eyes. "I was so busy making sure the couple got away I never saw the gun. Joe pushed me down and took the full force of the discharge. Three times Mom.. He was shot three times. It should have been  _me._ " Frank's composure finally shattered under the strain and Laura spent a good fifteen minutes comforting her eldest child.

( _What am I supposed to say to that?_ ) she wondered. Try and tell him that he would have done the same if the situation was reversed? That went without saying. She had always been proud of the fact that her children never subscribed to sibling rivalry and had seldom really fought over anything. She was eternally grateful that they never been your typical siblings, having listened to one too many bitch sessions by her friends who also had more than one son close in age as it seemed they were always at odds.. sports, girls, you name it. But her boys were the best of friends and were never afraid to defend each other no matter what the cost.

But this time, Frank was not to be consoled, nor would he listen to reason. "If he never walks again it will be my fault, Mom. All those years I spent yelling at him to pay more attention to his surroundings, and I am the one who failed to do as I preached. And he pays the price."

At that, Laura took her son's tearstained face between her hands and forced him to look at her. "That is  **enough** young man. I will NOT have you beating yourself up over this. What is done is done. I learned long ago that that serves no purpose whatsoever. What your brother needs most of all is for you to be strong for him and to be by his side as he recovers; no matter how much or little he does. Understood?" this last came out in sort of a growl that let Frank know this was one of those rare occasions that she would not be challenged. Laura Hardy had Laid Down the Law and he suddenly felt like he was 6 again and being grounded for some indiscretion.

Laura nodded, satisfied at the acceptance in Frank's eyes. "Good. Now you are to ." She raised a well manicured forefinger at his imminent protest. "My turn to keep vigil. You need a shower, a shave and a decent meal. What will your brother say when he wakes up and sees you looking worse than he does, hmm?" Frank almost but not quite smiled at that and conceded defeat. With a promise to return late tomorrow morning with the cushion and a change of clothes for her, Frank kissed his mother goodbye before sparing one last lingering glance at his brother.

Soon after, Mandy came in to check Joe's vitals and stayed a a few minutes to chat with Laura as once again the ward was mostly empty and Linda had everything under control. She assured Laura that the surgery had indeed gone very well and the prognosis was very good. Neither woman mentioned the "P" word though. Laura was content to take each stage as it came and right now she was focusing only on Joe regaining consciousness. As Mandy took her leave, she mentioned that she would not be back for several hours unless the alarms went off. Laura nodded and said "Thanks, Mandy. You are definitely on the Christmas card list this year."

"Does it come with your homemade fudge?" Mandy asked hopefully. " A double batch, just for the Ward. Promise." Laura laughed. Mandy grinned at that before returning to her duties.

The night passed by quietly and slowly. Laura's butt soon became numb but she ignored it as she assumed her rightful place at the very edge of Joe's bed. His blond hair was messy and she tried vainly to smooth the slightly wavy locks. "I suppose I should be grateful that it took you almost a year after coming home before getting yourself into a mess. But did you have to do it while I was in Honolulu, dear?" she sighed as she stroked his cheek.

Only now, when she was utterly alone with no expectation of interruption, did Laura Hardy allow her composure to break. She allowed the tears to fall freely, even indulging in a few sobs now and then. She got it all out of her system as she knew once morning broke she would need to once again be the strong one. She rarely admitted to herself, let alone anyone else, that Joe was her favorite. Of course she would have been the first to vehemently proclaim the love she had for her boys was equal and without measure, and she wouldn't be wrong to do so. But Joe... Joe was Fenton in every aspect save looks. Frank favored his father in that regard, but her younger son was Fenton reincarnated in temperament and personality. Watching her blond firestorm grow up was like seeing in reruns all those stories Gertrude used to tell about Fenton's youth. It was times like this, late at night, when the face on the pillow blurred and shifted between that of her son and that of her husband. It was her very deepest fear, something she could not articulate even if she tried.

"Please wake up, darling." She whispered into his ear. "I'm not ready to let you go just yet." Laura knew that someday she would lose all of them, and she also knew that it would most likely be violently. She had  _almost_ come to terms with losing Fenton when he had his heart attack.. But ever since then she had clung a little tighter to her husband at night. 25 years was barely enough time together. She was selfish enough to want more. A lot more. And she wanted to share that time equally between all of the men in her life. She wanted grandchildren. She wanted to grow old and grey(er) watching them grow up, spending Christmas and Fourth of July in large family gatherings full of love and laughter. She wanted Joe to find someone he could love as much as he did Iola. She wanted Frank to shed his reluctance to commit and find someone who could be strong enough to be a PI's wife.

She wanted...her son to live.

 


	5. Moments in Time

 

Joe Hardy was pretty sure he was dead. He wasn't particularly surprised at this realization since the last thing he remembered was shoving his brother out of the path of the gun that glinted in the hands of some random street thug, followed immediately by three distinct pains on his person. ( _Damn. I really liked that shirt too. With my luck Mom will put me in that gawdawful suit for the funeral._ ) Hindsight being 20/20 he realized that he probably should have just tackled his elder brother and hit the ground with him and avoided being shot in the first place.

 

“Oops. My Bad.” he chuckled. He supposed he should be grieving, or at least being all regretful and stuff at lost opportunities yada yada yada, but he just couldn't work up the energy just now. Instead he gazed out over the horizon. Again, he wasn't surprised at finding himself here, on the cliffs above Barmet Bay. He had always loved the sound the waves made crashing against the rocks below; at once both angry and soothing, he came here often when he needed a place to just think. Joe chuckled again , thinking of the one time Frank had followed him up here to his 'Thinking Spot'. ( _Poor guy was terrified I'd do something insane like jump over the edge._ ) But how could he think about something so drastic when he had something important to do? Iola had to be avenged. It was simple, he could never have rested until her murderer was brought to justice. He may have been foolhardy( _FoolHARDY..get it..heheheh oh I crack myself up. Frank was always groaning at my puns_ ) at times, and reckless once or twice ( _oh all right. Three times. But the time I went diving into that river after that kid doesn't count._ ) but he was never ever suicidal or completely oblivious of the ramifications of any action he was taking.

 

His father raised him better than that. Joe did some reflecting on his relationship with his father over the years. If opposites attract, then it was no wonder he and his father were often at odds. They were far too much alike. Fenton was better at controlling the temper, and was slightly less pigheaded, but Joe figured that was just old age. He supposed that if he had made it to middle age he would have eventually settled down too. There had been a lot of arguments in their day. Some of them were over silly stuff, like keeping his room clean. Others were more interesting, like how the best way to handle a case was. And then there was The Big One. Joe sighed. Okay, now he could start regretting.

 

Everything had started pretty normally. Just your standard everyday case. Break up a chop shop that recently formed in Bayport. He had been particularly gung ho about the case as some pretty awesome sports cars were being desecrated for their parts as the individual pieces could often fetch a higher price than selling the car itself. He would have had to turn in his man card if he allowed that sweet Porsche to be hacked to bits. So yeah, he jumped through the open window. And yeah he failed to do anything vaguely resembling proper investigation like actually checking to see if the guy with the blow torch was alone. As it turned out, not only was he not alone but his buddy was a freakin' giant. Just _slightly_ out of his league. And when it was over, Frank, who had rushed to his brother's aid, was in the hospital with 6 broken ribs, a concussion and one hell of a black eye. ( _and I walked away with some sore knuckles_ ). Fenton seldom lost his temper in the presence of his children or wife. But that day he did and it felt like the Wrath of God was descending. First came the “You are so damn reckless. Why don't you think?!” followed by the “You could have been killed.” That was met with the cheeky response: “But I wasn't, was I?” Joe swore he **saw** the last thread of his father's patience with him snap at that response. The following hour was spent with the two of them rising their voices at each other until they were both shouting at full volume. While they never came close to blows, there were several casualties in Fenton's office that day, including Fenton's favorite coffee mug, the one that said 'World's Greatest Dad' in cheesy script.

 

It all boiled down to Fenton accusing Joe of failing to exercise good judgment. At one point he started comparing Joe with his elder brother, something he had never done before. Frank was responsible and studied for his exams a week before, not the night before. Frank was methodical and never acted before he thought. And Frank NEVER put Joe's life in danger. When the words “Why can't you be more like your brother?” came snarling out of his father's mouth Joe's own final thread snapped. “Because you are always telling me I am just like YOU” he seethed. He remembered with crystal clarity turning his back very deliberately on his father and walking away.

 

He remembered running out the door, pushing past his mother without so much as a word and taking off for, well.. here. He had spent hours here that day even as it began to rain. He had gone over every word of their argument, but he finally focused on one thing in particular. “Frank is always having to rescue you from yourself! When are you going to learn that he has better things to do?! Did you know he has a full scholarship to NYU?! But he won't take it because he thinks you need him!”

 

As his anger was cooled by the falling rain he was forced to admit just exactly how accurate that was. With dawning understanding he finally acknowledged the fact that no matter what, Big Brother Frank was bailing him out. He did so out of love, and Joe readily admitted if the situation were reversed he would have done no different. But that didn't alter the fact that he had been holding his genius brother back. He realized that something had to give. And he was also painfully aware, thanks to having the point hammered home in very direct terms by his father just hours before that _he_ was gonna have to be the one to make the first move. Knowing Frank as well as he did he would continue to put his own needs secondary to Joe's. A fact that made Joe all warm and fuzzy inside. And also guilty as hell.

 

They were supposed to be partners. Equal partners. That meant more than just watching each other's backs. It meant not putting yourself in situations where your back needed watching in the first place. Joe continued to reminisce about that day and the ones immediately following. He had gone home as the sun set, seeking out his mother's advice on what to do next. All she said though, was “Frank loves you and will never begrudge one thing that he does for you.” Joe supposed she was trying to make him feel better, but all it did was confirm his fears that Dad was right, that he was holding Frank back from his full potential. Since he had always idolized his brother and was very proud of all his accomplishments, even the silly geeky ones like Science Fair prizes, this came as a very harsh reality check.

 

He had avoided his brother for weeks afterward and even stopped hanging out with their friends as much , preferring instead to spend most of his time here at the cliffs contemplating what to do next. It was a fluke, really, that he had stopped one sunny afternoon in front of the recruiting office to tie a stray shoelace. As he straightened, he took ten seconds to actually look at and register in his brain the many recruiting posters plastered to the window. All it took was his infamous impulsiveness and he was inside the door. He was greeted by a Petty Officer First Class in the US Navy who smiled at him and asked if he had any questions. The pieces just seemed to fall into place after that. As he made a few idle inquiries, he realized that maybe this was exactly the perfect solution. He knew he wasn't yet self disciplined enough to make a go of life all alone without a safety net but he was also very much cognizant of the fact that his safety net could no longer be named Frank Hardy.

 

He told no one of his plans other than his mother. Since he was already 18 he did not need permission from his parents. As soon as he graduated, he could ship out to Great Lakes. Laura was very quiet for a long while after he told her. Eventually, she smiled softly and told him he was an adult and needed to do what was best for himself.

 

Then one day, it was time to leave. Fenton was out of town so it was easy to avoid the goodbyes there. Frank was harder. He had begun pestering Joe about all the secrets he had been keeping and was growing increasingly frustrated at the lack of answers. But Joe knew that if he had mentioned one word Frank would have started trying to talk him out of it. And Frank being very persuasive, Joe was afraid he'd cave. So instead he just made very sure he was unavailable for interrogation. As he sat there leaning against the largest rock, Joe sighed. One more regret from his life. It made no difference that the boys had 'made up' when Joe had flown home. He still felt bad about abandoning his brother with no explanation, even if by doing so he ensured that Frank would graduate with honors because he wasn't distracted by Joe induced babysitting duties.

 

Once he glommed on to the negatives in his life, it was hard to stop. The day he left the backyard gate open and the dog ran away. The day he ran away over some minor punishment that had been handed down and he ended up lost and then kidnapped. Losing the football championship when he was a Freshman at Bayport High. The day Iola was killed. The day he failed to bring her murderer to justice. The day he and Vanessa called it quits. The argument with his father. The sadness of his mother after he left. The hurt in his brother's eyes when he came back. The whole getting shot thing. That really sucked, now that he thought about it.

 

But he couldn't deny there were far more high points. Moving to Bayport and getting a dog. Long summers spent at Chet's farm trying vainly to ignore a certain dark haired bossy tomboy. Frank taking the blame for that baseball through Dad's study window so he could go on his first date with that same tomboy. Pizza. Lots of pizza. Falling in love. Falling in love a second time with Vanessa. All those dastardly criminals brought to justice. Serving his country. Making up with his father and brother. Getting a degree. Joining the family business officially. Dieing to save his brother.

 

“You aren't dead you idiot.”

 

Joe Hardy jumped about 6 inches straight up at the unexpected voice. He never noticed he was no longer alone. ( _so much for all those lessons on being aware of your surroundings from both dad and the Navy_ ) He drank in the sight of her, the ache in his heart that had finally began to dull after he met Vanessa suddenly returning with a vengeance. “Iola” he breathed softly.

 

He swiftly gathered her up in his arms and gave her quite possibly the most passionate kiss in all eternity. Wesley and Buttercup had nothing on him. Iola was not content to just be the recipient and her arms wasted no time entwining themselves around his neck and pulled him even closer. A very long moment went by before they surfaced for air. They sat down on the rock without relinquishing their hold on one another. Iola shifted slightly and laid her head on Joe's shoulder. He leaned in and breathed deep the scent of her. Fresh grass and crisp fall apples. Tears fell freely into her hair as long buried emotions rose to the surface.

 

They sat that way until the sun set, not saying a word. Joe was afraid to speak, thinking the illusion would shatter and he'd be left alone again. Eventually, the stars came out and the silence was broken.

 

“You're not dead.” she said softly.

 

“I'm not?” he asked disbelievingly.

 

“Nope.”

 

“But...I got shot.”

 

“Yeap.”

 

“Three times.”

 

“Uh huh.”

 

“It hurt.”

 

“I know.”

 

“okay Ms Smarty Pants if I am not dead then what are **you** doing here if not to lead me to the Pearly Gates?!”

 

“No Pearly Gates for you Mister.”

 

“Umm the 'Other Place'?!” he gulped, going pale in the moonlight.

 

“Arrrgh. You. Are. Not. Dead.” each word was punctuated by a stiff finger poking him in the chest.

 

“Dying?!” with a faint tinge of hope coloring his small voice.

 

“Not this time.”

 

“Then why are you here?” there was pain in his voice now, like he was afraid of the answer.

 

“You tell me. You conjured me up Hardy.”

 

“Say wha?!” he spluttered.

 

Patiently, Iola continued. “I am not a ghost. I am not an angel. I am, for lack of a better term, your subconscious manifesting itself in order to get you to wake the hell up and survive dammit!” Her patience was wearing pretty thin by now. “Apparently I am the only person who ever managed to knock some sense into you when it really mattered. Obviously lack of proximity has dulled that super power and you are no longer susceptible to my charms. ”

 

Joe had nothing to say in return. He sat there, jaw dropped and stared at her like she had two heads.

 

They sat and stared at each other a few more minutes, Iola with her arms crossed and foot tapping, Joe still in shock. Finally he shook his head and said “I.....miss...you” His voice broke as he softly spoke the words.

 

“I know.”

 

 

“It was my fault.”

 

“No. It wasn't.”

 

“We chased him down, you know. Frank and I. But he wouldn't be taken alive to face justice.” Joe spat bitterly.

 

“Thank you.”

 

“But why are you _here_ ” he cried, his heart breaking.

 

“You have unfinished business. I am here to remind you of that. You must wake up and finish your life as it is meant to be. You owe me that.”

 

Joe wasn't sure what to make of that statement. He cocked his head quizzically at her, an unspoken question.

 

“I died. You mustn't. My potential was wasted. I won't let you waste yours. Live. For me. In my memory and in my honor. Please, Joe. Do this one thing for me.” Tears were streaming down her face as she whispered the last words although she never dropped her gaze. Wordlessly he held out his arms and she flew into his strong and tender embrace. The rest of the night passed, although Joe never felt the cold. He supposed that since this was his delusion/hallucination/dream/whatever he was in charge of the temperature.

 

Dawn slowly rose over the horizon. Iola had long since fallen asleep in his arms and he briefly tightened his embrace as he silently realized his time with her was up. She blinked open sleepy eyes and smiled up at him tenderly. “Are you ready to go back?” she asked.

 

“If I do I lose you all over again!”

 

“Not if you do as I ask and live. I will always be a part of you.”

 

“The very best part of me.”

 

“Well that goes without saying” she teased.

 

Joe pulled her into his lap as he held her so very close one last time. “ I love you Iola Morton.”

 

“I love you Joseph Hardy.” She stood and stepped away from him. “Live a long and meaningful life. Stop the bad guys. Fall in love again without guilt. And next time? Tackle your brother so the bullets miss you.” And then she was simply...gone.

 

Joseph Hardy sat at his Thinking Spot for a very long time before finally standing up, tears still wet on his face, and began walking towards home.

 

His next conscious act was fuzzily opening his eyes and staring into the face of his father. Joe smiled.

 

 

 

 

 


	6. The Death of Me

 

( _My son is going to be the death of me_ ) Fenton Hardy thought to himself as he raced towards Bayport, bending a few minor traffic laws in the process. ( _Forget criminal psychopaths. Forget heart attacks. Never mind kidnappings and torture. My youngest is going to do me in._ )

 

At this late hour, traffic was nonexistent, which made it easier to continue bending minor traffic laws. Not that it would have made a difference. Professional courtesy and all that. Fenton had made it a point to cultivate friendly relationships with every local police department he ever encountered. From the big city departments like NY and Chicago to the one Sheriff hamlets in the middle of God's country, Fenton had always tried to respect their authority while still getting the job done.

 

It had been less than 24 hours since his contact at the FBI had gotten word to him about Joe's current condition. It took 3 to come up with a reasonable excuse to get him out of the undercover assignment without ruining the objective and another 6 to implement it. And now, here he was, speeding his way towards who knows what. All he knew was that Joe had been shot. He also knew Frank had been with him when it happened and that his elder son was uninjured. Physically, at least. He was all to aware of the close emotional bond his kids shared. He also knew that was mostly his doing.

 

Or rather, to be entirely accurate, his..not doing. Your average father worked a nice predictable work week. Monday through Friday, 9-5. Weekends and Holidays off, to be spent tossing the football around, imparting important wisdom such as the proper fly to use to attract the salmon every spring. Things like that. Fenton... was so not average it was laughable. Like every other person who choose to serve the public, weekends and National holidays were just a number on the calendar. If he actually knew what day it was half the time, that is. So, instead of his sons having a close personal relationship with their Father, they had it with each other. Some things a growing boy needed a male figure for. Laura did her best, but mothers can only do so much. So Frank and Joe learned to lean on each other. Fenton could not deny that such a relationship had probably saved their lives more than once, so he was grateful for it.

 

But every so often he allowed himself a small indulgence of self pity. Well, maybe not self pity. Perhaps a tinge of regret. His only sibling was his elder sister Gertrude and she had been more his mother than anything, seeing as how his own mother had died when he was very young. He did not have a frame of reference to understand the relationship his sons had with each other. He often wished he was able to connect to his children on something other than a professional level. Oh, the love was there, and the pride. Also the frustration that comes with having teenagers. ( _We won't mention the grey hair. Last time I did that I got the_ _dirtiest_ _look from my wife_ )

 

But if he was going to be brutally honest with himself, he would have changed nothing. Not even if it meant having a better relationship with his sons. What he did was more than a job or career.. it was a calling. One he was incapable of ignoring despite the sacrifices it entailed. He was supremely lucky to have found Laura, a woman capable of accepting that personality flaw without complaint or bitterness. And to have not one but _both_ of his sons follow in his footsteps despite his never expecting it or even hinting at it?! He was blessed and he damn well knew it.

 

Eventually, Bayport loomed ahead and he stopped bending minor traffic laws as the traffic had picked up as he got closer to the center of town where the hospital was. He swiftly found a parking spot and was quickly on his way upstairs to the ICU. Mandy Keller greeted him with a smile and offered to get him some coffee. He accepted with thanks and headed down the hall into the dark room at the end, knowing that either his wife or his eldest would be there keeping vigil.

 

He was correct. Laura was instantly in his arms. Neither parent spoke for many minutes. Eventually, though, he broke away and asked “How is he?”

 

“The surgery went well, so I am told and they expect him to wake up sometime tomorrow.” she replied with a trace of relief in her voice.

 

A wave of emotion swept over Fenton at the news. Once again, Joe had beaten the odds. Or so he thought. Hesitantly, Laura told him about the possibility of paralysis. Fenton grew cold at that pronouncement but refused to show how deeply that affected him. Not in front of Laura. She had enough to deal with . “We'll deal with that if we have to. Right now, one step at a time. Tell me what happened.”

 

So Laura recounted the story as told to her by Frank. Fenton could not help but feel a bit exasperated at Joe's chosen method of rescue. “You would think a quarterback would think 'Tackle!' not 'Shove'” he said with a small smile. Laura returned the smile and said “well according to Tony, quarterbacks try to avoid the whole tackling thing so of course he would not think of it in the heat of the moment. I suspect he was trying to make Frank feel better about what happened.” She grew solemn. “He's really beating himself up over this. Keeps saying it was all his fault.”

 

Of course. If there was one thing his sons excelled at, it was the martyr complex. One gets a paper cut and the other wants to slice his finger off to compensate. “I'll knock some sense into him later. You look tired, why don;t you go home and get some rest? My shift.”

 

She nodded and with a last caress of her son and final kiss from her husband, she was gone. Mandy arrived with the promised coffee when she came in to check Joe's vitals. She chatted a few moments, bringing Fenton up to speed before leaving him to his thoughts.

 

The rest of the night passed quietly. Fenton spent it reminiscing over past events involving Joe. There was no denying he was more like his father in temperament than anyone else. Gertrude had often thew her hands up in despair declaring she had done her penance raising Fenton and she couldn't handle another one like him at her advanced age. He spent a long time going over the argument he and Joe had had over Frank. That one event hammered home more emphatically than any other that Joe and Fenton were exactly alike. So much so that it took his own heart attack to get the two must stubborn people on the planet to reconcile. In the year since he had returned from his stint in the Navy, Joe and Fenton had gone out of their way to try and work on that relationship. He recalled the last conversation they had before his most recent undercover assignment,

 

“Y'know Dad, I finally get it.” Joe had said one early morning while they sat drinking coffee and fighting over the sports page.

 

“Get what?” he had asked.

 

“Why you do what you and what it costs you.”

 

“What do you mean, son?”

 

“I had a few friends who were married on the ship. We would work days, nights, weekends, everything. And they would miss birthdays and anniversaries and all sorts of family events. But they all did it. Most did it without complaint. And they all missed their families, but they did it. Because we had a job that needed doing. And they sacrificed family time to keep the world safe for everybody. And the really successful ones? Still had great relationships with their families. They made every second they were home **count**. So thanks for making every second count.” and with that Joe snatched the sports page out of his father's hand and dashed off into the living room.

 

It was sometime just before dawn when Fenton heard a stirring on the bed. Rising quickly, he bent over and was rewarded with his son opening those sapphire blue eyes and smiling at him.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story continues in Dear Diary....


End file.
